I had just got home from a hard day’s work and I noticed an angry look on my wife’s face. Now I know that most of you are thinking how could you tell? I mean that lady looks perpetually unhappy. Well let’s just say that after ducking around her, and the whole smoking cessation thing we did 16 years ago, fear is a great motivator for learning such things.
So she says to me “Karrab”, she calls me ‘Karrab’ when she is upset with me, “What is that large box doing in the back of the van?"
I smile at her, partly because I know she will just love the surprise, partly because I fear she will tear my head off. “Elle May” I say (that’s one of my pet names for her, at least one of the ones I use when she can hear me). “That's my surprise for the neighborhood and for you!”
Her face lightens a bit. It is only the raising one of her formidable eyebrows a millimeter, but it is a hopeful sign. She replies, “I hope this is not like the last time when you and your little honky friend Kerry started drawing red lines all over the neighborhood, daring mean old man Assad to step over them. That did not turn out well.”
“No”, I say. “It’s nothing like that. It’s an Emu! Aunt Pelosi bought it sight unseen a while back, but we can’t take it out of the box until October 1st.” I can tell I have surprised her. I can tell because her eyebrows go up by three millimeters.
“What in Sheba’s name are we going to do with an Emu?” she asks me.
“They are fabulous!” I gush. I am so glad I can get my sales pitch out before she gives me that love tap in the sternum that leaves me curled up on the front lawn. “They make these giant eggs. Each one can feed a family for a whole day! And they have magic properties that will keep you in tip top shape or cure you even if you weren't sick before!”
She frowns, but somehow maintains the friendly lifted eyebrow. “Doesn't the money you are taking from all rich kids at the bus stop feed the neighbors and take care of their visits to the abortion and breast exam clinics? Besides, big birds like that require a really big fence. You don’t think the imaginary fence you made to keep all the Mexicans out will stop it from wondering off?”
I plunge ahead. “I have thought this through. I talked to crazy Uncle Lew and Aunt Sillybus who live in the basement. They assure me that they will get all the neighbors together to set up the Emu egg distribution. You know how Lew is. They will help or he will break their fingers. Eric the cop says he will go along with it, since we have the same haircut. My best buddy Dier says it can’t fail!”
While the angry expression on her face doesn't change (it never does), her eyebrows rejoin together for a neutral uni-brow, indicating she is thinking it through. “What about that pesky white boy, Boner, who is always trying to tell us what we can or can’t do. Have you thought about what he is going say about this?”
I smile. I am proud of this part. “Well he did tell Dier that he wasn't going to let the bus stop rich people give us any more money, starting October 1st unless I take the Emu back. But that is not a problem. You see Dier and I have a plan for that. Come October 1st we plan to slash the tires on a couple of buses. When the rich people see there are no buses running for a couple of days, they will get really mad.”
“Won’t they be mad at you for slashing the tires?” she asks.
“No. That’s the beauty of the plan. We’ll just say we slashed them because we had to or there would be no Emu eggs for the neighborhood”. I reply.
Both eyebrows go down. This. Is. Not. A. Good. Sign. “Why would they care? Those eggs will only feed or cure two families at most. There are millions of families in this neighborhood. It’s not just the rich people that ride buses, some of the people in this neighborhood have jobs too.”
She smiles. This just got serious. Speaking in an icy tone, she says “This is what you are going to do. Tell the neighbors that the rich people at the bus stop called them all egg eaters and are laughing at them. This will make them mad at the bus stop people with their fancy buses and jobs. Then, because they are mad, Boner, being the weak-assed white boy he is, will ‘accidentally’ give Deir permission to let the Emu out. Everybody wins.”
Chastised, I begin to head down to the basement to tell Uncle Lew and Aunt Sillybus to take care of the Emu. As I walking away, she yells at me, “Hey! Stop by the hall closet and let your cracker brother Joe out of the closet, but this time make sure his shotgun is unloaded”.
UPDATE: Once again I welcome the readership of the IMAO faithful. Thanks for following the link, and thanks again to Harvey. If you haven't already, take a look around, sample the free ice cream, and bookmark me for when you are really bored. That is my key demographic - really, really, really bored people.
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